Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Ballads, Scots -- Scotland -- Texts
She had lauchty teeth, an' kaily lips,
An' wide lugs fu' o' hair;
Her pouches fu' o' pease-meal daigh,
War hinging down her spare. 40
Ilka ee intil her head
Was like a rotten ploom,
An' down down browit was the quean,
An' sairly did she gloom.
Ilka nail upon her hand 45
Was like an iron rake,
An' ilka teeth into her head
Was like a tether stake.
She gied to him a gay gravat
O' the auld horse's sheet, 50
And he gied her a gay gold ring
O' the auld couple reet.
7, 8. _Var_.
For Kempy Kaye's to be here the nicht,
Or else the morn at een.
16-20. See _King Henry_, v. 21,22, vol. i. p. 148, and _The Wee Wee
Man_, vol. i. p. 126, note. Also _Carle of Carlile_, v. 177-188 in
Madden's _Syr Gawayne_, p. 256.
36. _Var._ Was like a brucket yowe.
KEMPY KAYE.
From Kinloch's _Ballad Book_, p. 41.
Kempy Kaye is a wooing gane
Far far ayont the sea,
And there he met wi' auld Goling,
His gudefather to be, be,
His gudefather to be. 5
"Whar are ye gaun, O Kempy Kaye,
Whar are ye gaun sa sune?"
"O I am gaun to court a wife,
And think na ye that's weel dune, dune,
And think na ye that's weel dune?" 10
"And ye be gaun to court a wife,
As ye do tell to me,
'Tis ye sall hae my Fusome Fug,
Your ae wife for to be, be,
Your ae wife for to be." 15
"Rise up, rise up my Fusome Fug,
And mak your foul face clean,
For the brawest wooer that ere ye saw
Is come develling doun the green, green,
Is come develling doun the green." 20
Up then raise the Fusome Fug,
To mak her foul face clean;
And aye she curs'd her mither
She had na water in, in,
She had na water in. 25
She rampit out, and she rampit in,
She rampit but and ben;
The tittles and tattles that hang frae her tail
Wad muck an acre o' land, land,
Wad muck an acre o' land. 30
She had a neis upon her face
Was like an auld pat-fit;
Atween her neis bot and her mou
Was inch thick deep o' dirt, dirt,
Was inch thick deep o' dirt. 35
She had twa een intil her head
War like twa rotten plooms;
The heavy brows hung down her face,
And O I vow she glooms, glooms!
And O I vow she glooms! 40
Ilka hair that was on her head
Was like a heather cow,
And ilka louse that lookit out
Was like a lintseed bow, bow,
Was like a lintseed bow. 45
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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